Day 25, May 20. Part 1. Our 4th day of rest in Muxia!

Day 25, Friday, May 20. Part 1. Our 4th day of pure, unadulterated rest in Muxia. 

After having decided yesterday not to walk to Finisterre, Chris woke up this morning deciding we didn't have to go to Finisterre at all. Everyday we fall a little bit more in love with Muxia and how sweet, beautiful and quiet it is. We have really come to appreciate this quiet time. We are going to have almost a week of reflection, and we find that our experience of this Camino deepens everyday as we let it age (or as Quakers say, season) inside us, without any pressure to rush on to our next destination or project. River says if she ever walks the Camino again she will try to plan a week of quiet reflection at the end. 

We spent a good part of our day in the company of Dr. Rob (who as it turns out is from Nashville) and his daughter Katie (from Seattle) and their Camino friend Marcus (from  Munich) who were all on the last day of their Camino. They left by bus for Santiago this afternoon. We really enjoyed getting to know them and in fact fell a little in love with them the way we so often did on our first Camino. It gave us a really sense that this rest stage is part of the Camino. The conversation was wonderful: about therapy and its risks and uncertainties, Greek mythology, life choices, and family.  Dr. Rob is just two years younger than River and three years older than Chris' oldest son. Katie, a therapist specializing in EMDR and trauma treatment, is the oldest of 6 children -- she has four younger brothers and a youngest sister (like Chris' four boys followed by a girl). She is also mother of a 13 year old daughter and 4 year old son. Marcus made a career with his own business in the aerospace industry -- he has sold his business and is walking the Camino to discover what will come next in his life. He has two preteen daughters. When young he had hoped to study but didn't have good enough grades to get into psychology in the very competitive German university system. He was remarkably well-read and informed on a broad range of subjects. Photo 1 shows our little band of five love-inebriated pilgrims just as we were about to separate. 

 

It was perhaps the sunniest day so far. We even got to sit around for the first time on t-shorts (which is what we mostly wore everyday in 2012). 

We again enjoyed our slow stroll out to the Church of the Virgin of the Boat. We searched in vain for the famous miraculous boat that was transformed into stone, although photo 2 shows a rock that vaguely resembles a sail. River was equally entranced by some tiny black polywog-like fish swimming in a tide pool in which the church was reflected (photo 3). And of course River can never resist the rocky coastline and the waves crashing enthusiastically against the rocks (photo 4). 

 

 

 

In the afternoon we strolled through (and beyond) town in the other direction, sharing a chocolate ice cream cone and loving the idiosyncratic details of this little town still very unspoiled by tourism. Photos 5 and 6 show such details. 

 

 

We ate supper at a funky little restaurant beside the marina in front of colored chalk rendition of a green-eyed octopus (photo 7). 

 

There has been at times an almost imperceptible shift in who is playing the leader in our relationship that we have both welcomed and blessed and been intrigued by.  This feels like one of the themes of our Camino. It reminds Chris of how Ovid ends the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Now they walk side by side though sometimes Eurydice takes the lead and sometimes Orpheus, but with no fear of ever again losing his Eurydice. 

So in some sense it feels like we are leading a kind of afterlife. Which reminds River of Linda Pastan's poem, An Early Afterlife. (The only online version we could find was embedded in an essay, but if you are willing to scroll down diligently to the fourth poem in the essay you can find and read it at;

http://4thapenglish2012.wikispaces.com/Linda+Pastan-Haas   )

In a way, the interruption of our Camino walk, the initial disappointment and the gradual acceptance and even enjoyment, provides a metaphor for both dying and retiring (though River technically retired 4 years ago, it will be when she finishes her PCT hike this summer that she begins to fully face retirement and what it might mean in her life). Our time in Muxia feels like practice for some of the big transitions ahead. 

To be continued